The Meekdragon Legacy
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: After the abrupt end of their strictly-physical relationship, Hermione & Draco are forced together as they're sent with Harry to investigate a possibly magical artifact in the hands of a science institute. But the facility has dark secrets & an even darker history. Will the team's experiences there tear them apart or pull them closer together? *Takes place after A Night Unfettered*
1. Reconnected

**A QUICK BUT _IMPORTANT_ AUTHOR'S NOTE****:**

**THIS IS THE STORY I HAD MENTIONED IN OTHER FIC A/N'S UNDER THE TITLE _THE 5TH HOUSE_.**

**Most of my regular readers are aware that I have had this fic on a backburner for a while, now. Recently I joined a site called Hawthorn & Vine (you can think of it as Dramione. Org), and stumbled across a story called **_**The House That Fear Built**_**, and in the summary was mention of—you guessed it—a fifth house. I panicked & read the opening chapters of the fic. Other than that single, surface similarity, the stories_ are_ completely different. I even addressed my concern in a review to the author (black[underscore]coffee13), so that it is out in the open, and as a means to avoid any misunderstandings.**

**In fact I urge you guys to pop over to Dramione. org & give black coffee13's fic a try (don't forget that underscore!). It's dark, it's intriguing, and it deals with a lost, or little known, bit of Hogwarts history (gee, can you guys guess why I'm liking the story?). I think you'll really enjoy it :).**

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><p><strong>This story uses my one-shot, <strong>_**A Night Unfettered, **_**as a jumping-off point. That's to say the events in that fic **_**have **_**taken place between Draco and Hermione. It isn't necessary to read that to get up to speed, just wanted to mention that for the readers who wanted a sequel/continuation of that story.**

***Note as of 11/6/14- the M character's original name was Melisandre, but as River in Egypt on Hawthorn & Vine pointed out, that might cause readers to think of ASOIAF, which is not my intent. So, the name has been tweaked, while still trying to keep it Rowling-ish.**

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><p><span><strong>My other <em>HP<em> Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [**one-shot**, lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact _(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_The Lestrange Girl _(Dramione)

_Tourniquet _(Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

_Wizard Theory _([AU] Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

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><p><strong><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>**:**_** Harry Potter **_**(c) JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story.****

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Reconnected

**_One Thousand Years Ago . . . ._**

Melisana set down the scroll, her bright blue eyes swimming and her throat tight. From across the table, Salazar pinned her with a smug grin.

Swallowing hard, she ignored him and instead looked to the other three, in turn. "Then you _all _agree?"

Rowena frowned, shaking her head, though she couldn't bring herself to meet the other witch's gaze. "He may be . . . unnecessarily coarse in his wording, but he has a point. It might be too much for the Wizarding community to accept."

"We do not like it, in fact, we hate it," Helga said, in her timid, soft way, "but we must consider what is best."

"What is best for _whom_, exactly?" When her angry question went unanswered, she turned her attention to Godric. "Even you? I thought you were so much wiser than this."

"We _are_ making the wise decision, Melisana. I only wish you could see it. It is not personal, nor a matter of magical ability. It is a matter of what the people are willing to allow."

Melisana uttered a mirthless chuckle as she dropped her gaze to the table. "It is not personal?" She shook her head. "You only think so because it does not affect you. You are choosing him over me, pure and simple."

"It is _not_ simple," Rowena insisted, "but he has influence, and _many_ ties. Whether we like it or not, he can end this before it even starts."

"Well, influence and ties . . . ." Pushing up to stand, Melisana gathered her rich purple cloak around herself. "I am not stupid. I understand how important they are, but perhaps I thought they should pale in comparison to friendship and what is_ right_."

Godric closed his eyes tight as the young witch spun on a heel, her ginger-gold curls flying behind her as she stormed from the Great Hall.

Helga and Rowena turned withering glares on Salazar.

He had sat, still grinning, still smugly content with himself, throughout the entire scene. "Oh? I am sorry, why am _I_ receiving looks of condemnation?

"Melisana is a powerful, capable witch," Rowena said, frowning, "that is all that should matter."

"This was your idea, Salazar," Helga tacked on.

Salazar's sleek, dark brows shot up. "Truly? Perhaps then I should place a looking glass before each of you so that you can aim those horrible expressions where they actually belong."

Rowena rose from her seat, her mouth opening to loose a string of barbed words, but Godric's reason-tempered voice cut her off.

"He is not wrong." Frowning, Godric turned his attention to the double doors through which Melisana had exited. "He only made the suggestion. _We_ were the ones who followed through."

Salazar sat back, that smug look returning and his posture regal as he folded his arms across his chest.

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><p><strong><em>Presently<em>**

**(Approximately 1 year, 3 months After the Battle of Hogwarts)**

"You too?" Harry's voice rang out as Hermione was ushered into the Minister's office.

"Harry!" Smiling, her eyebrows drew together as she crossed the room and stepped into his waiting hug. "Do you know why we've been asked here?"

He shook his head as they loosened their hold on one another. Honestly, they'd seen each other only a week ago, and here she was acting as though it had been years. Hermione never changed.

"No," he said finally, "I received the owl just last night. Not the foggiest idea what this is about."

The door opened again, and Kingsley Shacklebolt swept into the room—as much as a man as large and foreboding in appearance as he_ could _sweep—and smiled broadly at them. "Wonderful to see you both."

Harry spoke up as Shacklebolt shook their hands, in turn. "Good to see you're well, Minister. Um, mind telling us why we're here?"

"Shortly, we're waiting on one more person. Please, sit down."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, taking seats in a pair of plush arm chairs while the Minister rounded his desk and sat, as well.

She gave a start when a knock sounded at the door the same second they all got their bums in their seats.

"Come," Shacklebolt called, his naturally booming voice seeming to echo off the walls.

The door opened and a familiar pale blond head poked in.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Draco Malfoy for the first time in months. Doubly heart-stopping was the fact that the last time she'd seen him was the night before their graduation from Hogwarts.

One drunken night together at the Shrieking Shack had somehow turned into a weekly ritual . . . not the drunken bit, only the spending the night together part. The two would slip from their Houses to meet at the tunnel which led to the rundown old building. They each knew that last night together was exactly that—their_ last_ night.

They'd never crossed the line, never let things become emotional, and so they'd not even said goodbye. Hermione had woken first, gathered her things and slipped back out.

She'd not seen him since.

Staring into those grey eyes just now, seeing in her periphery how his lips parted and a quick breath rushed out, brought memories zipping back to her. The remembered sensations of stroking fingers and wandering lips teased her, and she found she had to force herself to look away from him. She ignored the sweet, warm pulse that thudded through her as her gaze wandered his mouth for the quickest moment.

Though it felt like that shared look lasted forever she knew, realistically, only a few seconds had ticked past.

"Ah, all right, you're all here." The Minister rose up as Draco shut the door quietly, and she couldn't help but watch him as moved to stand by the window. "Good, we can get started."

Hermione averted her eyes, examining the rug pattern, which was _completely_ fascinating. She refused to acknowledge how well the cut of Draco's suit fit him, accentuating his long legs, broad shoulders and lean frame. Who needed any of that?

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><p>When Draco had poked his head through the door, he'd not expected the first thing he saw would be Hermione Granger's too-familiar chestnut eyes. The way she would moan and whimper, clenching around him as he brought her to orgasm rippled in the back of his mind, and he thought for certain his cheeks had flushed at the recollection.<p>

Honestly, they hadn't seen each other in _months_ and he'd been fine with that. He hadn't missed their trysts one little bit.

And he absolutely _wasn't_ affected by that momentary flicker of hazy drowsiness in her eyes, or the way she scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. He'd . . . _barely_ even noticed her reaction to seeing him, again.

Then, after a single painfully stretched heartbeat, she'd torn her gaze from his.

That little shake he had to give himself as the Minister stood was nothing, nothing at all. Certainly nothing to do with Granger, anyway. Because it didn't matter to him one iota how delicious she looked in the pale-silver summer dress she was wearing.

Harry glanced around the room, certain he missed something, but had no idea what. After a moment of trying to pinpoint the change in the air, he shook his head and pushed aside the notion, focusing on the Minister.

With a flick of his wand, Shacklebolt called forth a small stack of documents from a cabinet, directing them to the center of his desk. "You are here because I have a task of utmost importance that must be carried out by people I trust . . . and those who look the part, so to speak."

Hermione's brows drew together and she opened her mouth to ask what he meant by look the part, but Harry spoke first, interrupting her.

"People you trust?" Frowning darkly, he waved a dismissive hand in Draco's direction. "_This_ is someone you trust?"

She couldn't help looking at Draco, _now_. For some completely inexplicable reason the way he bit into his lip as he dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to meet Harry's angry stare, made her feel terrible for him.

"He has volunteered to aid the Ministry in any task we see fit to assign him. Young Mr. Malfoy is here in a bid to redeem his family's name." The Minister's voice was cool was he scooped up the first document and looked it over. "And since he carries that burden—one we all know is _quite_ weighty, indeed—I believe he will do everything in his power to see that trust is not misplaced."

It was Harry's turn to bite into his lip, an angry scowl twisting his features. Hands clenching into fists, he sat back, his head shaking.

Hermione blinked hard a few times, a sudden wave of relief washing through her that she'd never broken down and confided in Harry about the nights she'd spent with Draco. He'd probably never forgive her. And to think, all throughout eighth year he'd been so indifferent to Malfoy that she hadn't even realized he'd been harboring a grudge.

Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak at last. "I'm sorry, Minister, but what exactly did you mean, 'look the part?'"

Shacklebolt set the document back down as he said, "It has come to the Ministry's attention that a Muggle learning institution is in possession of an artifact which may be magical in origin. We need to assess the artifact and, if it is indeed magical, remove it. But we must do so without arousing suspicion, or drawing attention to ourselves. _Nothing_ can risk the exposure of our world to Muggle society."

"What sort of Muggle learning institution?"

Shacklebolt rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He leaned back against his desk and clasped his hands in front of him. "An American _science_ academy, of all things."

Hermione nodded, understanding. "And so by look the part you mean blend in with secondary—" She cut short her words, consulting a knowledge of American academic culture brought to her by a childhood reading young adult books penned by American authors. "Sorry—high school students?"

The Minister's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "You are all only nineteen. Still close enough to behave in ways that will be perceived as genuine by Muggle peers, rather than forcing anything. You two _know_ the Muggle world. Lastly, it _is_ a science academy, therefore intellect is necessary as well, and it should go without saying that you three were the brightest in your year. I am leaving as little as utterly possible to chance."

"As _little_ as utterly possible to chance?" Draco had been quiet the entire time, but Harry had happily noted a growing look of dread on the Slytherin wizard's face as Hermione and Shacklebolt discussed the matter. "You're telling me _I_ have to pass as a Muggle?"

"I am telling you that from the moment you three depart to undertake this task,_ everything_ you do will be as a Muggle. You will be given charms so that you may call forth your wands, but_ only_ under the most dire of circumstances so none of you falls back on the instinct to draw them and accidentally reveal what you are. You will even use Muggle transportation to reach your destination." Shacklebolt went on as though he didn't see Draco's horror-stricken expression. "I am certain Harry and Hermione will be more than happy to give you a . . . crash course, I believe is the term, on how to behave as a Muggle, Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione turned and watched Draco with the sinking feeling that he was about to explode and storm from the room. He surprised her by remaining speechless . . . perhaps he was actually trying to keep his emotions under wraps to stay true to his word about doing whatever the Ministry might ask of him. She felt an urge to, at the very least, send him a compassionate glance.

But he wouldn't look at her, his distraught gaze fixed on the Minister.

Harry had been observing Kingsley's expression as well, and he could swear from the way the skin around his onyx eyes crinkled that the man was grinning on the inside. He was forcing Draco to tag along on this mission not _just_ for added intellect, or a bit more magical power if things got sticky—oh, no! The Minister of Magic was enjoying the thought of how torturous living as a Muggle would prove for a Malfoy.

And the Boy Who Lived felt a downright evil smile lift the corners of his mouth.


	2. Mile High

**To those of you who have reviewed _The Lestrange Girl _and commented on how creepy Tom is . . . thank you! I cackle maniacally every time I read that sentiment ;)**

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><p><strong><span>My other <span>**_**H****P**_** Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [**one-shot**, lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact _(Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

_Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me_ (Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_The Lestrange Girl _(Dramione)

_Tourniquet _(Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick_ ([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

_Wizard Theory _([AU] Dramione/Harmione/Drarry)

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Mile High

Harry found much less reason to smile when he and Hermione had finally dragged a not necessarily willing Draco into the airport a week later. She'd tried to prepare him the best she could, but he still stared at everything with a mix of childlike wonder, and outright fear. How she managed to coax Draco across the boarding ramp and onto the plane was beyond him.

He had to give her credit—she was far more patient with the Slytherin wizard than Harry would have ever thought possible. And this was all after she'd been the one to aid Shacklebolt in securing their proper—expertly forged—documentation, along with any necessary modern electronic-tech devices Muggle teenagers fancied, _and_ stocking up on all the study material they'd need to fudge their way through the first few weeks' worth of lessons.

She had perused their assigned coursework for the Mandrake Institute and felt certain that they would have all the time and preparation they'd need to get their feet under them, and maintain their cover on their own. Her plan was to read all the books, herself, and then impart the necessary portions of their content to Harry and Draco.

Which was why she was in her seat, a thick physics text open in her lap, while Harry stood inside the plane's bathroom, fuming, as he stared down the ashen-faced Malfoy heir.

Sweat beaded on his pale forehead, plastering his silvery-blonde hair against his skin. Grey eyes so wide they showed white all around darted about the cramped space.

Swallowing hard, Draco forced himself to speak as he gripped the rim of the sink behind him with both hands. "I know you despise me, Potter, but watching me like this _can't_ be fun for you."

"It's not!" Harry shook his head, frowning in anger. "I thought it would be, but no. And now we're _in_ the sky, so I'm worrying that all your panicking is going to accidentally summon up a storm, or something."

"I can't—I can't help it. I tried! I was fine, but then everything started rocking and—"

"For God's sake, man, it's called turbulence; perfectly normal for traveling this way. Get a grip!"

"I am _trying_!"

"You fly all the time—you were the only other student in our class to have a natural knack at it, besides me, remember?"

"This is different, Potter! This—this_ isn't_ flying, this is being hurtled through the air in a giant metal container held together by nuts and bolts!"

Draco tried to slow his breathing, but failed, only managing to make himself feel a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The former Death Eater swayed on his feet and Harry reached out reflexively, catching him around the waist and steadying him.

Suddenly painfully aware of just how small the bathroom was, Harry snatched back his hands. "I can't deal with your nonsense."

As he turned away and opened the door, Draco practically yelped. "Where are you going?"

"To see if Hermione can talk you down off your little ledge."

Draco winced at the sound of the door slamming shut. Perfect . . . . Granger seeing him like this was the last thing he wanted, but there was clearly no helping it.

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><p>"Is everything all right?" a flight attendant asked Harry as he hurried down the aisle. "Your friend looked quite ill."<p>

"Fine," Harry said, flashing a reassuring smile. "He's just never flown before, having a bit of a fit, is all. I'm just, um . . . ." He darted his gaze about, looking for Hermione. There she sat, still with her nose in the book—though knowing _her_, it was probably the next book, or the one after that, already.

He snapped his attention back to the attendant. "Right, sorry, I'm just going to get his cousin." He'd thrown out the first thing that came to mind, what with airline security being what it was, that they couldn't readily check, but which sounded like a relatively innocent—and thus _not_ suspicious—connection to the situation. "She might be able to talk sense into him."

The woman nodded, her expression concerned. "If you need assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you, but I think we can handle it. Making a fuss will only embarrass him."

Her face became just a bit stern as she said, "I appreciate that, sir, but if you can't calm him, one of the flight staff _will _have to step in and assist."

Harry's eyebrows shot up as he nodded, realizing that she was simply trying to be kind that first time around. "Understood."

He really didn't want a scene. Hurrying to Hermione's seat, he pulled the book from her lap before she even had the chance to notice he was standing there.

"Harry? Bloody hell, you gave me a fright!" Hermione made a grab for the book, but he held it out of her reach.

"No, I'm done," he said in response to her maliciously narrowed eyes. "I can't deal with him when he's like this."

"You can't deal with him under normal circumstances, either," she pointed out.

She was afraid it would come to this, and she didn't want to be in a confined space alone with Draco. Granted, she'd known _that_ was a possibility as soon as they'd been asked to undertake this task, but she'd had no idea it could become a reality this fast.

And if she hesitated much longer, Draco might get worse _and _Harry would get suspicious about why she was so reluctant to help.

Shaking her head, she stood up from her seat. "Fine."

Hermione shoved her way past Harry to show her irritation—at the very least, she could play that off as displeasure at having her studies interrupted. Yes, that seemed like a typical Hermione-thing, she thought as she stormed down the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant all together.

Reaching the bathroom door, she drew a breath and let it out slowly. She knocked, her eyebrows shooting up when all she received in answer was a miserable groan.

Biting hard into her bottom lip, she cringed as she pulled the door open. A peek inside revealed that he wasn't crumpled on the floor in a heap, as she feared he would be. But the glassy-eyed stare he gave her as he clung to the sink to for dear life wasn't much better.

"Oh, Malfoy," she said in a whisper as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, locking it. "Why _are_ you such a mess?" She knew he was having a hard time of it, she simply hadn't expected it was _this_ bad.

"Potter called it . . . um, turbulence."

Her shoulders slumped as she grabbed up some tissue and reached around him to dampen it beneath the faucet. "So a little bump in the air and a great Malfoy is paralyzed with fear?"

He shook his head, his eyes drifting closed as she raised her arm, gently wiping the cool, wet tissue over his face. "Not paralyzed. If that were so, I'd never have made it all the way to the bathroom."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Fair point."

"I didn't want you to have to come in here."

"I didn't want to come in here."

"I've been trying to avoid you."

She offered a humorless grin. "And I you."

He said nothing further, fixing his gaze on the wall behind her.

Perhaps she should just leave him here, this miserable wreck that he was. But she simply couldn't; something in her chest ached at the thought.

Tossing aside the tissue, she asked, "How's that, any better?"

Draco forced a short breath, trying to assess his level of dread. He only shrugged, still pale, still wide-eyed. "How much longer is this particular nightmare going to last?"

"We have a good few hours left before we land, Malfoy."

"A good few_ hours_?" The hysteria in his tone caused his voice to crack.

Sighing heavily, she reached out, pressing her fingers to the side of his throat to check his pulse. She stood a little straighter; it was so fast she was surprised he hadn't passed out after such a long time in this state.

"Okay, um . . . " She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice—couldn't have Malfoy thinking she was genuinely worried about him, now could she? "We need to shift your attention. Get your thoughts focused on something else."

Grey eyes rolled as he relinquished his hold on the rim of the sink to throw his hands in the air. "Like I told him, we are hurtling through the air in a giant metal container. That's _all_ I can think about!"

He was working himself up again. If he kept going like this, he _would_ pass out.

She ignored that a little voice in the back of her mind whispered that she hated seeing him like this. That wasn't even the point, she needed to distract and calm him so that they didn't draw any further undue attention to their little traveling party.

Hermione did the first thing that came to mind, grabbing his hands and guiding them to cup her breasts.

Draco's eyes somehow became wider, still. Yet his panicked breathing slowed just a little. "Granger, what are you—?"

"Getting you to think about something else," she whispered, stepping close to press her body against his.

Before he could respond, she slid a hand around the back of his neck as she stood on her toes, bringing his mouth down on hers. His fingers tightened reflexively, kneading soft, rounded flesh through her clothes as she darted her tongue between his lips.

She felt the tension in him ease, but couldn't bring herself to pull away. Instead, she tipped her head more, deepening the kiss.

He made a groaning sound in the back of his throat and slid his hands down, and around her. Cupping her bottom, he pulled her tighter to him, still.

Giddy butterflies zipped around in her stomach. Forgetting her purpose, she nipped and sucked at his tongue and his bottom lip, losing herself in the kiss.

Her skin was so warm against his, and she was clinging to him. It was taking everything in him not to simply turn around and lift her to sit on the sink. So much effort not to ease up the skirt she was wearing and press himself between her thighs.

Memory-response told her to slip her fingers downward and unbutton his shirt. To rock her hips, pushing her pelvis forward, and grind against him. She fought with herself, uncertain whether or not to give in.

Clearly, he was having the same recollections at that same moment, as he pulled her to move against him.

Hermione felt a sweet, rippling pulse between her thighs and she shuddered in response. No, _no!_

She broke the kiss, pulling back enough to meet his gaze. "So," she said as they caught their breath, "calm, now?"

His eyes drifting closed as he let his head drop down against hers, he nodded.

"Okay, good." Though, after a moment of listening to each other's slowing breaths, she still hadn't pulled out of his arms.

"I think . . . I think I'll be okay, now."

Nodding, she finally forced herself to step back from him, and he dropped his hands from her at the same moment. She fluttered her hands around herself, making certain her clothes were unrumpled, and her hair as little of a mess as it could be—considering that it was _her _hair.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," she said in a murmur as she surveyed his appearance, as well. He looked perfectly normal. Still a bit pale, even for a Malfoy, but not as though he was going to keel over at any second.

"Sorry?" Draco's brows drew together. They had done everything in their power to avoid one another during their week of preparation leading up to their flight, but he knew they were _both _aware they'd have to talk sometime. "Why?"

Running the tip of her tongue over her suddenly, mysteriously parched lips, she couldn't help her gaze wandering over him once more. Those perfect, talented lips, his long and skilled fingers, those clear—gorgeous, though she'd die before admitting that aloud—grey eyes.

"Because I—" A knocking at the door interrupted her words.

"Do you need assistance?" The attendant's voice cut into the small space.

"No, he's calm now. We'll be right out, thank you."

She turned toward the door.

"Granger?"

Posture drooping, she looked back at him over her shoulder.

His dark eyebrows shot up into his pale hair as he prompted her. "Because you . . . ?"

She shrugged, finding she had the strange need to force a gulp down her throat. "Because I didn't want it to stop where we had to stop."

A wash of color tinted his cheeks, but she shook her head, facing the door again.

"And I'm most certainly _not_ getting caught joining The Mile High club," she whispered, shaking her head once more before she unlocked the door and stepped out.

Draco only furrowed his brow, nodding at the concerned-looking Muggle flight . . . whatever her title was, who stood outside. He stepped from the room, as well, striding past her to follow Granger back to their seats.

He ignored Potter's facetious words, praising Granger as some kind miracle worker. Instead, he dug one of those wretched Muggle devices from his pocket—they'd called it a mobile—and accessed some sort of database, as Potter had shown him.

Draco arched a brow, the color in his cheeks rising once more as he read just what the term _The Mile High Club_ referred to.


	3. Home Away From Home

**Next to Update****: ****_Displacement_**

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><p><span><strong>CHAPTER NOTE<strong>**: There are portions of this chapter that may come across as looking down upon American culture (such is not the case), it's simply Malfoy's perspective . . . and he looks down on pretty much everything.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Home Away From Home

"Oh, will you stop fussing?" Hermione asked, her tone pleading as they retrieved their luggage from the rotating belt that Draco insisted was making him dizzy simply from glancing in its direction.

Which translated to Harry and Hermione retrieving the luggage as Draco stood back and dramatically shielded his gaze with his hand. From the corner of her eye, Hermione caught the way Harry's fingers twitched just before he grabbed Malfoy's suitcase; the way his mouth tugged into an angry frown.

He was wishing for a wand. Harry was desperately imagining how easy it would be to simply jinx Draco and be done with it.

Sighing heavily, she shook her head and whispered the only thing she thought might soothe his agitation. "Just pretend it's his dead body you're carrying 'round in that bag."

A thoughtful light coming into his expression, he turned to look at the nauseated, pale-haired wizard and the returned his attention to Hermione. Nodding, he offered a slip of a grin. "That I can do."

Shaking her head, she held in a laugh as they turned with the bags and began walking through the crowd, toward the exit.

"Where are we going, now?" Draco piped up in a miserable tone.

She bit her lip for a moment, keeping down an urge to snap at him. Once again—just as on the airplane—she reminded herself that he was completely out of his element, and having a rather hard time of it today.

"We're going to get a taxi to the Mandrake campus," she said after the moment she'd spared to draw a deep, calming breath. Blindly fishing in the pocket of her denim skirt for the paper, she started, "I have the address right here, somewhere."

"Umm, Hermione?"

She turned to meet Harry's gaze. His green eyes were fixed on some point ahead of them and he nodded forward, directing her to look.

Brow furrowing, she followed his silent instruction. By the wide, automatic doors, a uniformed driver stood. The large, white sign in the man's hands bore all of their surnames.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, well . . . that's . . . helpful," she said, a bit put-off by the surprise. Why hadn't Shacklebolt told her the Muggle Relations Department had included a chauffeur in the arrangements they'd made situating them with the school?

Giving herself a shake—this seemed to get more surreal by the moment—Hermione plastered a smile on her face and approached the man.

* * *

><p>Somehow she found herself in the awkward position of having been forced to sit between Harry and Draco. Though she knew perfectly well why that should be, neither had the courtesy to be truthful about simply not wanting to sit beside one another. No, they had to hand her some rubbish about comfort, and her being the smallest, so the middle seat wouldn't feel cramped to her.<p>

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from groaning. Honestly, there was plenty of room in this town car, they were just being idiots. Why did men have to be idiots? And dear God, why was she stuck with two of them _while_ they chose to be idiots?

It didn't help her mood that whenever the driver took a turn a little too fast, she slipped along the upholstery. Her thigh pressed against Harry's one side side, and Draco's for a few trembling heartbeats on the other. Then the car would right itself and she'd grapple with the need to calm herself so she wouldn't blush.

Damn that moment on the plane, stirring up memories like that.

Harry stared out the window. His expression was thoughtful and maybe a touch sour as he watched the buildings zipping past them.

In an effort to distract herself, she asked, "Harry, what's wrong?"

He shrugged, and for some bizarre reason, she found herself acutely aware of his shoulder moving against hers. "I just . . . ." Again he shrugged as his voice trailed for a moment. "I think I just expected America to look _different_."

Arching a brow, she said, "Different than what?"

"Just . . . different than how it looks." He turned and leaned across her to peer out Draco's window for a moment. "The way you hear about it, I think I just expected everything to be . . . . I dunno, bigger, more impressive, I suppose."

Draco curled his lip in a sneer. "The whole bloody place looks like it could do with a good scrubbing."

Rolling his eyes, Harry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat at the assessment. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, he did agree . . . even if only a little bit.

"Oh, stop. It doesn't _all_ look like this" Hermione felt a bit exhausted already from putting up with the two of them.

A humphing sound rumbled from the back Draco's throat, and Harry's mouth puckered ever so slightly, as though he _wanted_ to believe her, but didn't quite.

She shook her head and sighed. "Well, get used to it," she said, her voice low, in case the driver was listening. "We've no idea how long we might be calling this home."

Yet after a rough ten minutes more, the buildings thinned, giving way to long stretches of greenery and manicured landscape. Harry's eyebrows slowly drew upward, and Draco's grumbling quieted as he sat up a bit straighter.

Hermione laughed at the way they both seemed more than eager to peer out the windows, now.

"More to your liking _now_, Malfoy?" she asked with a snarky lilt in her voice.

Clearing his throat, Draco gave a sideways nod. "It's . . . more livable, I'll give it that."

She exchanged a look with Harry. Her best friend shook his head and gave an eye roll so eloquent, so exaggerated, that his lids fluttered with the force of it.

Hermione bit her lip, stifling a laugh.

After passing through an enormous gate of wrought-iron, tipped by twisting gold spires, the car wound through a long, curving drive.

"Admit it," Harry said, speaking across Hermione in a smug tone. "You're impressed."

Shrugging—another moment Hermione was aware of how close they all sat, despite the space they actually had—Draco sat back. "I'm . . . surprised after such an awful introduction to the area, is all."

Harry shook his head, muttering under his breath about what an insufferable creature Malfoy could be.

She buttoned her lip, despite that she found herself in complete and utter agreement. This was going to be a long . . . however much time they were in for, and the constant bickering was only going to make it seem longer. She wasn't about to contribute to that, if she could help it.

The car pulled to a stop and she found herself grateful the boys had noticed. There was the strangest tension running between them, as though if they were Muggle girls, a slap-fight would've broken out at any moment, if not for the distraction.

Their chauffeur got out and came around, opening the door for them. It seemed Draco finally had a handle on working his seat belt. Hermione was only too grateful to note this, as having done it for him on the ride to the airport had brought her _so _close to touching him, and at _just _such an angle, that she couldn't stop enticing memories from washing over her.

Damn, damn, _damn_ that moment on the airplane!

The Slytherin wizard slid out of the car to stand . . . and immediately froze.

Hermione moved across the seat to follow suit, only to find that he wouldn't budge. Brow furrowing, she looked ever her shoulder at Harry.

He'd slid forward as well, so she found herself no further from him just now than she'd been for the entire, unnecessarily cramped, car ride.

Honestly, if she had time to give the matter thought, she'd notice she never did mind physical closeness from Harry . . . . But being so very conscious of Draco right beside her, knowing her past with _him_, made the entire thing a bit awkward.

Rolling his eyes—at this rate, he'd already made that expression so often Hermione was surprised they'd not fallen out of his skull—Harry made an impatient shooing gesture.

Nodding, she turned and pushed at Draco's back. "Malfoy, please. We'd like to climb out, too, you know."

With an affirmative mumbling sound, Draco moved aside.

Harry thought it must be some awful joke that when Hermione got out, she paused directly in front of the door, just as Malfoy had. Shaking his head, he simply stared at her back for a moment.

Biting his lip, he reached out, stroking a fingertip against the back of her knee. She gave a tiny start and then he heard her mutter an apology and step off to the side.

"Honestly," he said as he at last climbed out to join them. "What the bloody hell has . . . ." His words fell of as he turned his head, taking in the buildings of the Mandrake Institute's campus for the first time.

Now he understood their reactions.

"Is it only me, or . . . ." Draco finally managed, his grey eyes blinking several times in rapid succession.

Hermione forced a gulp as she once more exchanged a look with Harry. He nodded and she went ahead, answering Malfoy's unfinished question.

"No, it's not just you." She darted her gaze toward the driver, assuring herself that he was too far to hear their whispered conversation as he busied himself with retrieving their bags from the boot.

"It . . . ." She felt an odd twisting in her stomach as she said, "It looks like a smaller version of Hogwarts."

The three found their attention immediately diverted—before they could ponder the disturbing coincidence any further—by a slender woman in a sleek business suit approaching them. She had long, gleaming ginger-blond curls and bright blue eyes that reminded them all of Dumbledore in the way they twinkled.

The woman smiled, warm and wide as she hurried to shake each of their hands, in turn. "You must be the students from the Shacklebolt Academy."

Hermione caught Harry and Draco giving her questioning looks from the corners of her eyes. She waited for a brief moment of distraction—which came as the woman tilted her head to watch after the driver for a second—and responded with a helpless shrug. They'd _needed _an impressive, prestigious-sounding name for the fictional school on their documentation, hadn't they?

"I'm sorry, if I may just make certain I have all of your names correct."

Draco gave the woman an appraising look as she consulted a clipboard clutched in her free hand. She had surprisingly good diction for an American—it was nearly as though she was British, but merely spoke with the wrong accent.

"Harry Potter?" She looked up, smiling that same, inviting smile as Harry nodded. "So then," she said as she turned her attention to Draco, "Draco Malfoy and . . . ." She fixed her gaze on Hermione's and that smile became even brighter, still. "Hermione Granger."

They both nodded and suddenly the woman whirled on her heel. "Welcome to the Mandrake Institute. If you please, this way."

The three gave a start, but immediately filed behind her.

"My name is Arianna Mandrake, I'm Dean of Students, here." She glanced over her shoulder at them as they trooped along after her. "Any issues you have, please don't hesitate to come directly to me."

"Mandrake? Does that mean you own the school?" Hermione asked with—what she hoped_ sounded_ like—natural curiosity.

Arianna chuckled. "Don't I wish? Then I wouldn't have to work. No, the Institute is funded by donations from our students' families. One of my grandparents founded the school. But he was a fan of science, _not_ so much of financial responsibility."

When she led them away from the main building and off along a side path, Harry piped up, "We're not going to tour the school?"

Giving a sideways nod, Arianna said, "Well, you did arrive later than expected. I thought perhaps you should all get some rest, first. You'll get to see the grounds in the morning."

Hermione nodded. That made sense, after all it was Friday evening, they'd have the entire weekend to get familiar with the campus, anyway. Not that she was certain they needed that much time—not if the inside resembled their former school as much as the outside.

"I'm sorry, then where are you taking us?" Draco asked, the thinnest hint of suspicion edging his voice.

Hermione winced, hoping only she'd heard that. But he must've had a similar thought to the one that had just rung through her own head. If this _was_ like Hogwarts on the inside, their dormitories would have been inside the main building.

"We have special accommodations arranged for you. There is a faculty housing unit that's been unused, as we simply don't have a staff the size we used to anymore. You will be staying there."

They all halted, watching the back of Arianna's head as though the woman had sprouted an eye from it.

"We're staying together?"

She turned to face them, laughing gently at their shocked expressions. "We have a firm belief here that when our students are comfortable, they excel. You three have already been uprooted enough just to come here, we wouldn't want to discomfort you further by separating you and forcing you into a student population full of complete strangers. And besides, you're all eighteen—not certain how this works across the pond, but here, that makes you legally adults. You're a bit older than most of our students, but you're also responsible for your own actions. You should be trustworthy enough to not get into trouble, I think."

There was a sudden, hard gleam in her eyes and the three stood up straighter. Before they even realized, they all nodded. Something was in that look which clearly said they were _not_ to take the Institute's trust lightly.

Nodding in reply, she whirled on a heel and went back to leading them along the path.

Hermione bit her lip, holding in a groan. Housed _with_ Draco and Harry? _And _in a school that looked like a place it shouldn't?

This had suddenly become much more complicated.


End file.
